


About A Poison Apple

by clytemnestras



Series: Star Girls In Sweatpants [4]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Polyamory, Roadtrip Fic, Stargirls Universe, Threesome - F/F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 06:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2802155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clytemnestras/pseuds/clytemnestras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're already renegades at heart. Call this catching the rest of themselves up with the sentiment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	About A Poison Apple

Dawn likes to move. A side-effect of loosing a house to a crater means she doesn't have much in the way of home; it's a weird homebody complex that she likes to have a place where a bed and books and boxsets can live unharmed but also just wants to fly.

She thinks the monks slipped a bit of Jenny in there because her soul sings of gypsy.

And it's that part, the wild cheetah inside that has its claws in both Clara and Amy because they're all runaways at heart. But not since... Not since the madman and his box flew away have they let themselves soar and that needs to be rectified.

So they're renting a truck. Clara wants to paint it purple so Amy has to restrain her, tickling her to wrestle the paintbrushes out of her hands. Dawn rolls her eyes and remembers that Clara has to work with small children and is either six years old at heart or is the only one of them that is actually an adult and she plays up to being the baby. Amy is just... Amy. They don't own a map that has the current world geography, because this is an exercise in getting lost. There are more books packed than clothes which is exasperating Clara (Amy can wear the same check shirt for a week but she sure can't) and Dawn is just scratching at the wheel wanting to fly.

New York is calling.

They all agree that it's time to run.

**

Amy suggests New York, because fears are pointless if you can't slay them, and Dawn has always wanted to see a city since LA was too blurry and not-actually-real when she was small.

So she's driving, because she's the one least likely to veer off into the wrong lane, and when she mentions that reason Amy swats her on the back of the head whilst Clara reaches between them to turn up the radio.

 _Rio_ by Duran Duran blares from the system and transcends beyond like a cloud of exhaust fumes.

**

They swap drivers around halfway and Clara's happy to sit back and watch the ensuing carnage, looking up from her poetry book every two minutes or so when Dawn insists the GPS is possessed by something and trying to lead them to their deaths. The map she stole from the second pit stop is stretched over her lap like a blanket and her sneakers leave footprints on the dashboard. Amy ruffles her hair and swings the car from lane to lane trying to overtake anyone who isn't fast or violent enough.

When Dawn falls asleep they stop at the closest gas station and Amy and Clara work together to carry her into the back seat. She doesn't stir once.

By the time they reach the motel at sunset, Clara has her covered in sharpie tattoos. The patterns are all floral and abstract. She avoided numbering for obvious reasons.

Amy catches her eye in the mirror and twitches her eyebrow flirtatiously. Clara steals a kiss.

**

On the outer limits of the state, only a day or so away from the city, Clara takes the drivers seat but refuses anyone control of the radio. Dawn commandeers the front seat to keep Clara calm because vehicles plummeting wildly out of control? Very much not a fear she wants her girlfriend to revisit. Her hair gets braided, her legs get tickled and her neck gets kissed a lot, but her eyes stay trained to the road like it's a moving target.

It's been less that fifty miles when Dawn makes them switch seats, before Amy grabs Clara into her lap and the two lounge on the back seat, giggling to each other for the rest of the journey.

Time becomes intangible.

**

When night falls they decide to sleep in the car just this once, before the sempiternal city glow drowns out the starlight. Where Amy and Clara lie atop the hood, Dawn's pretending to doze on the back seat, pretending she can't hear them trading stories about infinity.

By the time they're hugging each other for warmth, whispering softly about wanting to show Dawn the whole universe, she really has fallen asleep.

**

The journey is silent, the road is not. Engine thrums and bad punk music screech past in blurs of daydream lucidity.

Clara drifts in and out of consciousness with only the colours of the sunset streaked across windscreens blinking into her memories. She thinks about the dreamcatcher that Dawn made as it swings on the rear-view mirror, jumping and swaying with each dramatic veer of Amy's, desperate to overtake the _fucking yanky bastards_ that keep cutting her off.

Screeching tires bleed into a cacophony of lullabies, and Dawn's lap makes the best possible pillow.

**

The city is so _alive._

Through the sterile cityscapes to the masses lunging frantically from place to place, they're just dots. Blips on the edge of infinity. Very small, very young, very free.

Feels kinda like home.


End file.
